The Reachman: The Temple
by Bootstrap Bill
Summary: Since the end of the Crisis, Tamriel has long endured dark times, the people starving for salvation come by the hand of a hero not born to the lands for millenia. Author Sean Finn knows better, that heroes are not born, they are made.
1. Chapter 1 Part 1

**The Reachman: The Temple is the third book in my series. Please read The Reachman: Prologue and Dayan's Riders or you won't understand the story! **

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**1**

**3 Midyear 3E429, Fort Wooden Hand, Cyrodiil**

"Remind me again why we just don't go in there and torch the place? It seems like an awful lot of work to steal_ vegetables._"

"Not vegetables Alvar, Cinnabar Polypore and Steel Blue Entoloma Caps, Aloe Vera and Milk Thistle Seeds, but most importantly - Lady's Mantle Leaves."

"So…do you eat 'em?"

"They're ingredients _stupid_. You mix them together and make potions. _Healing potions_."

"Bah! Who needs to waste time drinking that _panther-piss? _Besides I don't think anyone has landed a blow against me for six months at least."

"And when the time comes and you have a _fucking _gash the size of a banana across your stomach, what then? You gonna walk all the way to the City to pick up a potion? What about Skingrad? I'm sure they would love to see you again especially after what you pulled last week."

"That guard had it coming." The Nord smiled examining his newly acquired _steel longsword. _"We should just go into that Priory and _take _whatever we want. Might even have me some fun with those _Sisters _before we leave them dangling from the rafters."

"You really are as stupid as you look you _fucking polar bear_! Without those Priory Sisters who the fuck is going to replant the ingredients? Do you know how to fucking grow Mantle's Leaves?"

"You forget your place, Finch. That _bow _won't do you any good when I have this here blade pressed against your jugular." The Nord moved in closer and drew his sword.

"You won't make it another step with an arrow in your heart_._" Finch threatened.

Alvar raised his hand to slap Finch across the face but was stopped mid-strike. An imposing Orc was gripping him by the wrist. Alvar lunged his sword at the Orc's ribs. His aggressor easily evaded the attack and clamped down on the Nord's forearm nearly breaking the bone. When the pain became too much to bear, Alvar finally dropped his sword.

"Let go of me Shebaz, you _ugly monster!_"

The Orc Shebaz grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. The beast growled revealing his dirty unkempt teeth, sharpened like fangs. Alvar squirmed with all his might but could not break free. A small crowd of other marauders gathered around them in a circle chanting for the fight to continue.

Finch stepped up and spit in Alvar's face, then raised his hands in victory cheered on by the marauders. When Finch turned his back to the Nord, Alvar swung his legs over Finch's neck and squeezed tight, nearly cutting off the circulation to his head. Shebaz tightened his grip but the Nord resisted, prying the fingers off from around his neck and bending them backwards as if he were folding a piece of paper. The Orc cried out in pain and dropped the Nord onto his feet. The fight continued. Alvar landed several punishing blows on Finch. The man's face split open at the nose and he fell to the ground. Shebaz begged for one of his companions to intervene as he wallowed over his mangled fingers. Alvar stormed across the room and tackled the Orc into a wooden bookshelf.

"That's enough! Alvar, get off of him!" Gortwog, leader of the marauders ordered.

It took several minutes to finally pull the angry Nord off the unconscious Orc. Two marauders held a firm grip on Alvar, one on either arm. They held him upright before their leader.

"Are you really that foolish?" The Orc scolded. "You're lucky I don't kill you myself!"

"They started it!" Alvar protested.

"I don't give a _rat's ass!_ Now I have a bowman who can't draw his bow and a swordsman who can't hold his sword! And what about the rest of you?" Gortwog turned to face the crowd who had been cheering the fight on. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, _like guarding our fucking hideout?_'

The marauders looked down at their feet in shame, some trying not to laugh.

"If the _Legion _decided to raid this place, how do you expect us to defend ourselves if we only have _ten _sentries patrolling the outer perimeter?"

"_Actually it was more like eight…_"

Gortwog's eyes flared with rage.

"Which one of you _dead men _said that?" Gortwog interrogated standing nose to stubby nose with one of his archers. "Was it you Vance, _you worthless fuck?_"

Before the man could answer, a steel arrow pierced his throat spraying blood across Gortwog's face. The remaining marauders quickly drew their weapons and scanned the room looking for the assailant.

"Shebaz what've you –"

Gortwog turned to see three arrows stuck deeply inside the Orc's back. He was sprawled oddly across the ground having been shot from behind.

_"Wasn't him Gortwog…_" A distant voice teased.

The Orc spun around in panic. Beads of sweat dripped down his face. The throbbing of his heart beat loudly inside his ears.

"_Was it…the Argonian?_"

The_ twang _of a bowshot pierced the air. Gortwog turned around just in time to see his Argonian archer fall dead with an arrow in his neck.

"_Maybe your battlemage…_"

This time only the hilt of a small throwing knife could be seen sticking out of the Altmer's pronounced forehead.

"Come out and fight fairly!" The Orc's voice cracked with fear.

One of the two remaining marauders let out a yelp of terror followed closely by a dissonant clatter of familiar sounds - a blade being drawn from its sheath, metal piercing flesh, the dripping sound of blood falling upon stone. The marauder stood in a state of shock, examining a blade protruding in his back out through his chest – a shadowy silhouette crouched inconspicuously behind him. The aggressor moved swiftly from the shadows and with the blade still inside his victim's chest, pushed the marauder into a second skewing two upon the same blade as if they were fruit. Gortwog was paralyzed with fear. The silhouette disappeared.

"Have I wronged you in some way?"

_"I suspect you have wronged many in your travels…" _

An arrow tore through the Orc's calf and he fell to a knee. Defiantly, Gortwog stood and readied his blade. A second arrow penetrated the armour behind his knee and the Orc fell on his face, unable to muster the energy to rise again. His sword fell from his hand and slid across the stone floor. Gortwog desperately crawled to regain control of his weapon but he could not lift the blade. A boot was clamped firmly down upon it. A large brown cloak covered the man's arms and torso and a hood obscured his face. His _Elven shortsword, _the blade point just inches away from the Orc's face, gleamed in the torchlight.

"Spare me _demon! _Spare me and I shall never do wrong again! I swear it!"

"I am no demon. _I am called Roe _and you _will_ never threaten anyone again I assure you."


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

…_and Tamriel saw many cycles of the great moons Secunda and Masser, Jone and Jode in the tongue of the Aldmeri; yet the passage of time delivered not the solace ought to still his turbulent soul. The boy grown to man now understood the transgressions done by his hand and greatly did he weep for those he sent to roam eternally amongst the glowing white fields of Aetherius. With lament came the hope of redemption, long undelivered to one so tormented by the cruelty of others and now by guilt. _

_- Excerpt from The Reachman - _

**Gottlesfront Priory, Cyrodiil**

Roe was careful pouring the last remaining drops of his latest potion. _Exactly 4 fluid ounces_ he reminded himself. Taking too much of a potion could have adverse effects so measuring the proper amount of the final product was just as crucial as how much raw ingredient was used in making it. Potions whose effects were longer lasting required fewer raw ingredients than those which were instantaneous. Roe's specialty was making the longer lasting powerful potions and sometimes _fast acting poisons_. Poisons were difficult in the production phase because they could be abrasive to the skin and the fumes toxic to the eyes and lungs. Special facilities were needed to prevent any mishaps from occurring, though working outside was just as safe. If the poison's intended use required _subtlety _such as poisoning food or drink, that presented its own set of challenges. Roe spent months determining the correct proportions of raw chemicals for a fast-acting poison, much to the dismay of the Priory Sisters who viewed that aspect of alchemy as perverse. He must've explained a hundred times that his products were only used in hunting to bring down larger prey like a moose or bear.

Roe arched back and ran his fingers through his hair. Since the incident in Argonia two years earlier, he had changed his appearance lest he be recognized by some Imperial _Wanted poster._ The culprits behind the _Massacre at Atronach Excavations Site 11_ were still at large as the Black Horse Courier reported. One evening behind the Imperial City Arena, he offered to teach a young fighter some combat maneuvers in exchange for a haircut and shave. He could pass for Nord although he was never shy to let everyone know he was only _half_. His father was a son of Skyrim, his mother a native Redguard from Hammerfell. Roe capped the potion bottle in his hand, labeled it and placed it on a shelf.

"Good evening to you Roe." The elderly Priory Sister greeted politely with a smile.

"Good evening Sister Angrond."

The Sisters of Gottlesfront Priory had been more than accommodating since he stumbled upon their quaint wilderness home almost two years ago. Without Sasha or Dayan to take care of him, Roe was a lost soul on the run. He could not speak Cyrodilic, could not take a job and so retreated to the familiarity of the Great Forest. Roe discovered the Priory while tracking a family of deer on a hunt. For days he observed the Sisters go about their business, captivated by their tamed existence but far too timid to make his presence known. He often would sneak into their house at night, stealing food and alchemical ingredients to survive. Unfortunately Sister Angrond was smarter than she appeared and caught Roe in the act. Instead of reporting him to the nearest Legion outpost, the Bosmer took Roe in and sheltered him as a member of the Priory. Under her tutelage Roe practiced his speech, reading and writing. How he wished he could speak with Sasha and impress her.

"How is your shoulder?" Sister Angrond placed a gentle hand on the white bandages soaked with dry blood.

Roe nodded and faked a smile.

"You are upset with what you have done?"

Silence.

"Phebe and I are grateful. You protected us from those _marauders_."

"They were going to do…_bad things_ to you."

"And you stopped them from doing that! I am very proud." Angrond hugged Roe; her smaller arms could not reach around his large torso.

"_I've killed…again. _After I swore to you I wouldn't. I hurt so many people."

"There is great evil in this world Roe, those who have committed worse than what you have done. Sometimes doing a little evil to stop a greater one is justified. You needn't feel apologetic."

"That's just it, _I'm not sorry_. I am glad they're dead. What does that mean? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you!" Angrond comforted like a mother to a child.

"I don't want to keep doing this but I'm afraid it's all I'm good at, like I was _born _to hurt people."

"If you are feeling guilty or confused, you can always join me and Phebe in the Chapel. The Divines hear our prayers and may grant you peace."

"You know I won't."

Angrond became visibly disappointed.

"I shall pray for you Roe. Thank you again for what you have done."

Angrond exited through the old wooden door of the Priory house. It took Roe several moments to muster the energy to come to his feet. His head was telling him to move, to walk outside and pick ingredients for the Sisters as was his job. His feet were reluctant to comply. Images of the dead marauders, dead Legionnaires, dead civilians; a reflection of his blood-stained face in a lake, the sobbing of women and children, the Sisters in the Chapel praying for him. Roe fought back tears. _Never show pain! Never show emotion! _The words were deafening, reverberating inside his skull from years ago. So much pain had befallen him that it seemed only just that he should inflict it upon others. Roe rubbed his ear, a deformed mess of skin. It was a constant reminder of how cruel the world could be. He was now a part of that cycle, a criminal, a murderer and a thief. No amount of good deeds would suffice as retribution and still he felt not remorse. Roe missed listening to Dayan and smiling at Sasha. He remembered how happy Toji and Elgamil had been together, the compassion Jayred showed him in Valenwood. Outside of the Priory, the only kindness he knew came from _Dayan's Riders - _mercenaries wanted across the southern provinces for committing terrible crimes. _Sinners and murderers all. My family. _

His gaze turned towards his sword and bow tossed aside like unwanted garbage in a corner of the room. He did not want to touch the vile tools but it was pointless to resist temptation, like an addict desperately fighting to break free from a drug. Roe understood that he would never be anything other than what he was born to be, what he was _raised to become_. Shamefully he stormed across the room and collected his weapons. Tonight he would pay another visit to the Waterfront.


	3. Chapter 1 Part 3

"I know it's not the latest fashion in the _Isles_ but this will keep you from being recognized as an outsider. Now go roll around in the stables."

Sean tightened the drawstring on his sackcloth blouse. He was not amused.

"I'm serious! If you don't _smell_ the part this will never work." Sasha repeated.

"How come I have to roll around in the poop?"

"Because you are driving the cart."

"Why don't _you _drive the cart?"

"Because Dunmer aren't allowed in the City, remember?"

Reluctantly Sean complied and trudged his way into the nearby horse stables. The elderly Dunmer couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Are you kidding me? You are laughing!" Sean protested, shin deep in horse crap.

Sasha pulled a black hood over her face to hide her laughter.

"I'm ready whenever you are." She chuckled.

"Thank goodness. Let's get this over with."

The actual carriage driver, whom Sasha convinced for 10 gold coins to take a break for the evening, watched in amusement as the young author stamped and dragged his feet across the grass leaving a trail of dung behind him. Sean assumed his position atop the wagon and grabbed hold of the reins. Sasha, moving with the fervor and agility of a young soldier, easily disguised herself under a blanket in the back of the carriage.

"Remember what I told you boy?"

"Yes _Mister Leopold_. Your sister came down with a fever and you asked if I could take over the delivery of bread and vegetables tonight while you watch after her."

"Well done boy. Bring back my cart and mule intact or the _Enforcers_ will hear about your little stunt."

* * *

The Waterfront at night wasn't the safest place in town if you didn't know the right people. Roe fortunately knew all the right people for the wrong reasons. Built on an island outside the walls of the main City, it was blemish on the crown jewel of Cyrodiil. The City was a lively metropolis, a focal point for thousands of adventurers, businessmen, tourists and entrepreneurs, scholars and historians. The Arcane University and its stores of knowledge attracted the greatest practitioners of _magicka_ from across Tamriel and warriors of all races flocked to the Arena to test their meddle and earn glory before thousands of fans that filled the seats of the stadium daily. At the Temple of the One and White Gold Tower, pilgrims of the Alessian Pantheon of the _Nine Divines_ paid homage at their most sacred religious sites. Common citizens could walk along the same cobblestone floors where heroes like _Pelinal Whitestrake_, _Morihaus the Bull_ and _Saint Alessia _herself fought and died thousands of years ago. In the Market District, store owners and salesman raked in coin selling all sorts of goods and services to these pilgrims.

Very few of those in the Imperial City were actually residents. Most that were, lived in the Waterfront – a community of the intentionally forgotten – those that slaved for low wages and ill treatment to see to the daily operations of the City, cleaning the streets of filth each night, disposing of the unworthy slain in the Arena, polishing the golden archways above the Temple, unloading and loading goods on the Docklands. During the day they were kept out of sight and out of mind, confined to their homes built in the shadow of the Dockland Warehouses. Above all else it smelled _bad_, even with Lake Rumare so close. To those that knew this as home, there was a tight knit sense of community built upon a joint resentment of Imperial rule and jealousy of those who benefited from their tribulations.

Most of the residents were asleep and the City guardsmen rarely made the effort to keep peace where it wasn't appreciated. Roe now stood alone waiting behind an abandoned house in the empty lot known as the Garden of Dareloth, so named for _Emer Dareloth_, infamous thief and founder of the notorious _Thieves Guild – _the singular hope of a better life for the inhabitants of the Waterfront. _If not justly given when earned, then earn through justly taking _the common saying went. Organized across the Empire to supplement the non-existent income of the poor, most citizens of the Empire weren't convinced that there was such thing as guild of professional thieves, but being a suspected member would land one in jail nonetheless.

"_Shadow hide you._" Armand Christophe greeted, emerging from a nearby alleyway.

Roe replied with the same customary greeting.

"I have a job for you." Armand began. "This job is important…it's sort of personal."

"Guild related?"

"Not exactly."

"I don't have time to run your errands."

"There's something special in it for you."

"Gold? Keep it, I got a real job."

"_High quality Calcinator._" Armand smiled.

Roe raised an eyebrow, his interest peaked.

"How high quality?"

"My fence in Chorrol has it, says it's damn good. Good enough for an _expert_ like you eh?"

Roe paused and stretched his neck. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"Do I know you?"

"No, my name –"

"I don't care who you are." The City Legionnaire interrupted. "What business do you have here?"

"I'm delivering these items to the people of the Waterfront."

"Usually Mister Leopold makes the deliveries on _Sundas._ Where is he?"

"His sister is sick. He asked if I could make the delivery for him."

"He has a sister?" The Legionnaire questioned.

"I guess so." Sean answered nonchalantly. "Or maybe he made a quick drake and took the evening off?"

"That sounds like him." The Legionnaire chuckled.

"Can I go through now? I gotta get this wagon back before sundown."

"Wait a moment."

The Legionnaire inspected the wagon, encircling it several times. As he rounded the wagon for a fourth time, something in the rear of the carriage drew his attention. It was dangerously close to where Sasha was hiding.

Sean dismounted the wagon and approached the Legionnaire. "You know I think –"

"_Whoa!_ What do you think you're doing!" The Legionnaire drew his sword in surprise. "You stay on the wagon or I _cut your fucking arm off._"

Sean raised his hands showing that he was no threat. He could see the blanket Sasha was hiding under, her body motionless even in the face of imminent danger.

"Look sir, I don't want any trouble."

"What are you hiding back here eh? _Drugs?" _

A second Legionnaire arrived to aid the first, restraining Sean by his arms. The young author struggled, but not so much as to get a beating. Recklessly the Legionnaire tore through the sacks of grain and barrels of freshwater, finally coming to Sasha's hiding spot.

"Come on sir, that's my stock! You're damaging it!"

The author's heart pounded wildly. Viciously he fought to break free, to save the Dunmer before she was discovered and killed. The Legionnaire raised his sword above Sasha and sank it deep into her flesh. The soldier retracted his sword. The blade was covered in blood.

"_No!_ What've you done!"

The soldier pulled away the blanket. His eyes grew wide.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Sean broke free and ran to the carriage. His stomach wrenched with guilt. He nearly fainted at the sight before him.


	4. Chapter 1 Part 4

"Berries?"

"Berries!"

Sean could hardly believe it. A sack full of grapes, berries and jam preserves. Sasha was nowhere to be found.

"Fruits are contraband and are not allowed in the Waterfront."

"These berries were for you and your men _good sir!_" Sean laughed with relief. "Leopold told me I might _accidentally _drop these off the cart on my way in." He lied.

The Legionnaire removed his glove and ran his finger across the jam covered blade. He tasted the gooey substance.

"Well then… get going. _And for the love of the Divines take a bath._"

* * *

"Who are you?"

"I'm the delivery man. I took over Leopold's delivery because his sister is sick."

"Leopold doesn't have a sister. Try again."

Sean reached inconspicuously for the dagger tucked in the lining of his sackcloth pants.

"It's okay _Balan_, he's with me."

Sean turned to see a familiar silhouette standing in the shadow of a nearby building. The light from her pipe briefly illuminated her pale blue skin. He nearly fainted in surprise.

"_How did you?_ – _What are you? _– You had me scared half to death! You weren't in the carriage!"

"You noticed that, huh?"

The female Redguard named Balan approached Sasha and the two embraced in greeting.

"Who's he?" She asked Sasha.

"He's helping me with something. We need to speak with the Guildmaster."

"You know he's not here."

"Then where is he?"

"_Not here_." She repeated.

"Fine, I need to speak with the most senior member of the Guild. Someone who was around before the Crisis. Specifically someone who worked the City."

"I would've told you to go see Ulysses but he's not exactly a member of the Guild anymore."

"What guild?" Sean interrupted.

"_The Thieves Guild._"Sasha answered quickly.

Sean was taken aback by this.

"Ulysses was a…a thief?"

"A _Master Thief._" Balan corrected. "The Gray Fox's best."

"The Gray Fox! Ha! No one's heard from him in years!"

"There is a reason for that Sean."

"Oh please, don't tell me! _Ulysses Dragonheart is the Gray Fox!_" Sean nearly doubled over in laughter.

"No Sean, Ulysses wasn't the gray Fox so far as we know, but he did work with him very closely. When Balderic closed down the Waterfront, the Gray Fox turned his attention away from stealing, to protecting the people. He leads the Resistance within the City."

"It's because of him that there are still those who have survived from the days of the Crisis. I can take you to meet with one of the beggars, he's lived here all his life. Maybe he can help you. His name is Ancus."


	5. Chapter 2

**2**

_It is said that Rihad was among the first cities built by the Yokus – the inhabitants of Yokuda who traversed the Abecean Sea to settle in what is now Hammerfell. The Temple of Satakal, dedicated to the greatest of the Redguard deities, can be seen from miles away, its gold domes reflecting the sunlight like a lighthouse, white stone glimmering in the shadow of Masser and Secunda as bright as any star. Here the Reachman traveled, seeking knowledge of Yokuda's mightiest warriors, wielders of unmatched and unimaginable power. _

_- Excerpt from The Reachman - _

It was always pleasing when he was able to escape the confines of civilization. Greatly did he enjoy so many of the comforts not afforded to him as a youth sauntering about in the thickets of Argonia, but it would often become overwhelming. The prospect of city life was both attractive and frightening. With the help of the Priory Sisters, he would soon be able to take a proper job and purchase his own home in the City. He would often stroll through the Elven Gardens District, admiring a particular quaint two-story home of gray stone and dark green shudders. He imagined himself settling down to a life of solitude and research – working for the Arcane University perhaps, marrying a proper woman and raising a family. He of course knew that it would never come true. The prospect of normalcy scared him far too much.

Roe was a warrior, a thief, an opportunist. He _enjoyed _his work as a Rider but never shared his feelings with the other members of his team for fear of being viewed as a psychopath. The only solace he found was with his teacher, Elgamil, who actually _was _psychotic.

"It's not the act of murder that enthralls us, not the sight of our blade puncturing skin and bone that makes our blood boil. It is _power – _absolute and true_._" He remembered the pale-white Bosmer twirling a pair of throwing daggers in either hand as she instructed.

"When you draw a bow and look down upon your target you know that their life is in your hands. Stand over your enemy, raise your blade above them, watch their eyes grow wide and their heart beat loudly in their chest and then – _silence_." Roe recalled the intense arousal Elgamil showed every time she drew a weapon from its sheath.

"The blade, the bow and the axe exist to serve a purpose, just the same as you and I do. Do not carry one for show, do not draw it for intimidation sake. A skilled fighter does not interfere with this natural state of being. He _coexists _with it…"

Most jobs he performed in service to the Thieves Guild didn't require the _heavy-handed _touch he was so used to delivering, but Roe was suited up for battle nonetheless. He packed light as usual, bringing a few essential potions and poisons, his _Elven shortsword_ and dual daggers one tied to the small of his back – the other on his thigh, a bow and a quiver of arrows. Roe wore the uniform of an 11th Cohort soldier, rank and insignias removed, taken off the body of a Legionnaire he killed at Excavation Site 11. He had made modifications to the armour, adding in chainmail pieces around the neck and rib cage for extra protection. Before parting ways, Dayan presented Roe with his brother Amir's _Alik'r _blue and maroon tribal head scarf which Roe wore around his neck, and a collection of hand carved spears Dayan said had been in there family for ages.

Always too timid to ask for lessons, Roe secretly admired the elegance of using a spear in combat and was caught several times by Sasha sneaking a peek at Amir's collection. Once he began living at the Priory, having weapons that didn't relate directly to hunting were frowned upon by the Sisters, so he removed the sharp metal spear points and used the shaft as a weapon instead, passing it off as a fishing pole. While out on his own hunting in the woods, he practiced the art of _staff fighting_ by imitating how he had seen Amir fight. He was confident his skill level rivaled most advanced training.

Roe began his freelance work for the alleged _Thieves Guild_ at around the same time he discovered the Priory. Every week and a half he journeyed to the Imperial City to collect supplies. These solitary runs made him feel free and independent. He was able to make decisions for himself, something he had never before experienced. Being on his own for this latest contract was both scary and exciting. Roe couldn't stop smiling as his ship sailed out onto the open sea.

Unfortunately Roe was never much of a seafarer and soon found himself not smiling anymore, puking his morning meal over the side rails of the _Crosscut V_. Roe found the ship docked in Anvil taking on supplies for a trip to the port cities of Hammerfell. He figured if the _Abecean Sea_ was calm enough, he wouldn't get too sick and save himself a day of travel to the city of Rihad. He was wrong.

"Ah Nord! You look…err…thinner!" A member of the crew said slapping Roe hard on the back.

"I'm only _half._"

"Half thinner? I don't get it?"

"No, half Nord. I haven't been able to keep down food in….." The boat rose high in the sea and dropped suddenly, throwing him into another bout of vomiting.

"You'll be fine boy! We got salted pork and mead in the galley whenever you want to join us. I'd suggest you hurry, it goes fast."

Roe collapsed onto the deck and waived the sailor off. The mere thought of food made him want to puke more. He propped his feet up onto some coiled line and rested his head on a sack, his eyes gazing at the night sky. _Yup, I sure do miss this._

* * *

"Up and at 'em boy! You been out here all night?"

Roe rubbed his eyes and looked around. The entire crew was scurrying about grabbing line and lowering sails. He came to his feet in surprise. _My gods have I gone soft?_ _I didn't even reach for my knife! I should've awoken as soon as they opened the door to come on deck!_ Roe checked his gear and tried to stay out of the way of the crew, mulling over his lack of awareness. A few months ago a cracking twig would have gotten him on his feet at the combat ready. His jobs for Armand had kept his stealth skills up to par and he exercised every day. He'd even fought and won in five Arena matches, but his watchdog-like attentiveness, _his edge_ was gone. Roe retreated below deck to gather some food supplies before they docked.

When Roe returned to the top deck, he could see the city was awake and ready to greet him. The wooden docks that jutted into the Abecean were staffed by Khajiit and Redguards busy moving crates and sacks of all sizes onto several other ships. At least fifty medium sized buildings and residential looking houses lined the shore and ascended up the grassy hillside to the main part of the city. Towards the base of the hill were the shoppes where vendors had just begun gawking to the sailors and dock workers. The houses built into the hillside were all uniform in appearance and constructed in close proximity to one another. They were made of perfect white stone with red shudders bordering square windows. Roe could see women with babies strapped to their chests working on the flat stone roofs, hanging wet clothes on lines and preparing morning meals. A golden coloured pathway led through these homes up the hillside to the main city. Roe could not see much of the city with the exception of one building.

Dominating the skyline of Rihad was the most stunning temple he had ever seen. The outer walls were built of white stone patterned with turquoise and jade supported by colonnades of gold and blue pillars. An arrangement of domes carved in all shapes and sizes cascaded down from a larger central dome topped with a golden spike. Surrounding the perimeter of the Temple were six _minarets_, watchtower-like structures that extended so high it appeared they punctured the clouds. Roe guessed this was the Temple of the Redguard god Satakal, commonly known as the _Temple of Rihad_. The city was largely populated with _traditional Redguards_ who preferred to adhere to the ways of _Yokuda_, the original homeland of the Redguard people that allegedly sank into the sea many centuries ago.

When the _Crosscut V_ finally pulled alongside the wooden pier, Roe had already thanked the captain for the ride. He stood with one leg on the guard rail ready to disembark. Roe felt alive with anticipation and excitement, a feeling absent in his life since his days as a mercenary. Before the ship cast its mooring lines, he somersaulted from the rails onto the wooden pier landing awkwardly on his feet. A sharp pain shot up from his left ankle to his knee. He tried to compensate and cover his mistake so no one would notice.

"Hey boy! You best be careful doing your flips! Don't wanna break anything do ya!" A crewman called from the deck.

"I'm fine! Thank you!" Roe hobbled along down the pier trying not to look embarrassed.


	6. Chapter 3 Part 1

**3**

**18 Morning Star 3E429, Rihad, Hammerfell**

The buildings surrounding the _Great Temple of Satakal_ were just as impressive in architecture and detail but couldn't compare in size. There were no residential homes in the main city, just places of training, research, prayer, food and fun. The pathway from the docks led to a set of great wooden doors manned by four Redguard sentries. Roe approached one of the guards outside the gates and inquired about the city learning that there were only two major sections.

_The Temple District_ occupied the majority of the city and included the Temple and a large plaza surrounding it. In the _Temple Plaza_ were the libraries, religious research centers and halfway homes for traveling monks. Looking through the gates of the Temple District, Roe could see the Plaza was very well kept. The Plaza ground was covered entirely in beige cobblestone and the buildings flew banners of red and white from their roofs. It was obvious that the Temple was designed to be the center of attention. The entire Plaza was surrounded by a stone wall Roe guessed to be twenty feet high and there was only one way in - he was standing right in front of it. The Temple Guards seemed to be under instructions to allow entry to only certain kinds of people.

_The Outer Plaza_ was the remainder of the city wrapped around the perimeter of the Temple District. In the _Western Portion_ of the Outer Plaza were the taverns, brothels, and even a small amphitheater built into the nearby hillside. _The Eastern Portion_ had a few taverns and traders, but was home mostly to the martial arts schools and their respective training grounds. Roe had plenty of time to explore and headed east.

He contorted and squeezed his way through the narrow and congested bazaar. There was a cacophonous atmosphere of metal to metal contact, the thud of a sword or axe banging against a wooden shield, the pierce of a spear point through the wind, the twang of a bow drawstring and impact of an arrow into hay. The air was humid with sweat and every few moments there was the battle cry of warriors in training. Roe struggled to make his way through the trash littered street, kicking chicken bones, parchment, and pieces of broken clay pitchers out of his way. The streets were full of platoons of men and women in armours of all types and races ranging from Dunmer to Khajiit to Breton. Roe even saw a contingent of Imperial Legion troops performing morning calisthenics under the instruction of an old Redguard man dressed in nothing but his underwear. Redguard _Masters _in colourful antique battle dress called out to the soldiers in the streets, chopping and kicking the air around them. The soldiers would watch, laugh, and clap as the Masters tried to sell their style of martial art. Roe didn't want to attract the attention of these vendors.

After only a few minutes of browsing, Roe decided he had toured enough and began looking for his target, an armourer shoppe called _A Little of This._ The store was owned by the _expert smith_ and armourer Harith. According to Armand, Harith was in possession of a certain scroll detailing a new way to forge and enchant steel into stronger more durable weapons and armour. Armand's client requested the acquisition of said scroll.

Amidst all the hustle and bustle of the bazaar Roe eventually found his mark, a small shop nestled between two open-air training grounds. Across from the shoppe was a tavern. He would perform his reconnaissance from here.

For several hours Roe alternated between watching the shoppe from the tavern and the street. The man he presumed to be Harith sat hammering away with two apprentices by a forge. Steam would periodically bellow from the shoppe as Harith soaked molten steel into a vat of cool water. Roe could see that the apprentices would often go to a back room and draw wicker shades closed behind them. _That's where I would put a secret if I were you._ He would have to wait until night to find out if his hunch was correct.

Roe spent the remainder of the afternoon carefully planning his next moves. He familiarized himself with the surrounding areas, which buildings had access to back alleys, what fences were locked and where the city guardsmen made their rounds. Primary, secondary and tertiary escape routes were selected and he found a good place to secure his belongings. Even though he could easily blend in with the other foreigners around the bazaar, he took no chances that someone might be watching him. The city was beautiful and he regretted not being able to relax and enjoy the surroundings. That evening he treated himself to a dinner of olives, figs and wine. From across the bazaar, Roe watched Harith dismiss his two apprentices and retire to the back room.

* * *

By the time Roe estimated it was two o'clock in the morning he emerged from his hiding place next to a window in the shoppe's side alley. He quickly scanned the surrounding area. The once noisy bazaar was all but silent save the movement of a few roaming sentries and stumbling drunks. Most of the foreigners were either asleep nursing sore muscles, or celebrating in one of the many taverns. He rubbed his own knee, still sore from the somersault fiasco, praying that it would not complicate his mission. _You've done this plenty of times; in through the window, make for the goods, out through the window._ Usually he would refrain from unnecessary feats of acrobatics, but he assumed that Harith had some sort of device by the whicker door to wake him upon the entrance of an intruder. _No, this time it's the window._

Roe took a knee beside the shoppe's window and recited the incantation of a spell that had proved useful for sneaking into dark, secure places.

"_Var-ramdia nagori ada-se._"

Roe could feel the essence of _magicka _coursing through his veins, over his muscles, permeating out through his pores. The darkness of night was lifted, transformed into a luminescent blue and his skin was as transparent as glass. _Three minutes until this wears off._ With no time to waste, Roe effortlessly leapt through the window, landing in a roll onto the stone floor. His muscle memory instinctively brought him to his feet and with his ability to see in the dark he identified another doorway leading to what looked like a back storage room.

**A few minutes later...**

Roe tucked the rolled up schematics into his pack and walked hurriedly down the street. He avoided looking over his shoulder or being overly nice to any guardsmen. Both were tell-tale signs of someone with a guilty conscience. The schematics weren't secured anywhere special - a _three-tumbler_ locked drawer in Harith's desk. Roe estimated that it never occurred to the smith his designs could be worth so much money.

The theft was over so quickly, that he needed to wait in the alley for his spell to wear off. It was still early in the morning and Roe decided that there was no immediate threat to him hitting up a tavern to celebrate his success. He looked for the bar with the most passed out bodies by the door and went inside to purchase a drink…

* * *

Roe lost track of time and before he knew it the sun was on the horizon. While the job had gone smoothly thus far, he didn't want to be around when Harith awoke to find someone paid him a visit. Roe was reluctant to hurry back to the Priory and with his knee still damaged he was in no condition to make the journey home on foot.

As he limped down the bazaar street, the first waves of tourists were emerging from their inns. At the front gate to the Temple District, Roe watched a procession of monks dressed in white robes decorated with red _Yokudan_ symbols pass him by. One of the monks greeted him in a language he didn't understand. Roe bowed and followed them inside.


	7. Chapter 3 Part 2

"I think you are in the wrong part of town _my son._" The Librarian greeted.

He was a short old Redguard with a wrinkled face and a neatly trimmed white beard. He wore white robes so long that they fell down past his feet. With one hand he gathered up the slack and in the other was a cane at least twice his size. His arms and neck were tattooed, but the skin was so saggy Roe wasn't sure what the markings were. His voice rang with excitement as if he had not had a patron in years.

"I came here to read. This is a library?"

"My apologies friend! _Yes, yes, yes, yes this is a library_. You just look like you would be more comfortable in the…_Outer _plaza."

"Do I look like the type?"

"And what type would that be _my friend?_" The Librarian pressed his face inches away from Roe's.

"The type that thinks worthwhile knowledge can be bought with coin."

Roe did not move away from the Librarian, thinking that the old man must've had poor eyesight.

"Interesting…then what would you say _is _the price of knowledge?"

"Life. Knowledge is life and life is the never ending pursuit of knowledge."

The Librarian smiled upon hearing Roe's answer.

"Why did you come to this city?"

"Business."

"What kind of business"

"Personal."

"Ah well, I am sorry to intrude. I'm glad you decided to look through our _wonderful library._ Please read all the books you want. I will be upstairs if you have any questions." The Redguard bowed and hobbled out of sight.

Roe laughed and shook his head in amusement. He continued to browse through the hundreds of shelves of books, scanning the bindings for interesting titles or noteworthy authors. From the outside, the library appeared no bigger than a tavern. The books were all stored in lower levels. Roe counted three floors connected by spiraling staircases. Each floor was relatively small but the walls were high and every inch of space was used. There was barely enough walking room and sometimes Roe was forced to side step his way through. He took his time, pacing down the rows of bookcases, choosing one at random to look through. _Redguards, Their History and Their Heroes by Destri Melarg_. Roe opened the book to the first page:

_The people of the blade kept their poetry and artisanship in building beautiful swords woven with magic and powers from the unknown gods. The greatest among them became known as Ansei or "Saints of the Sword". Each of these began their own training schools teaching their individual way of the sword. Those Ansei of the highest virtue wandered the country side engaging in battle, righting wrongs, and seeking to end the strife._

"Find anything my good friend? Looking for something specific?"

Roe tried not to laugh. The man barely came up to his hips.

"I was just reading…what is this word, _Ansei_?"

"Ah, yes! Very good men these Ansei were. They brought our people to Tamriel you know, all the way back in the _First Era! _Great warriors!"

"Warriors eh?"

"Indeed! I believe we have some literature on the subject if you would like to know more?"

Roe nodded.

The Librarian hobbled away leading Roe to a table down on the bottom level of the library. He motioned for his guest to sit at a table. The old man did not join him. Instead he disappeared for a few minutes and returned holding a large book. Roe read the title: _The Book of Circles_. The Librarian placed the book down and sat across from him.

"What is this?" Roe inquired.

"_A book._" The old man laughed rocking back in his chair.

"_Cute_. What will it tell me about the _Ansei_?"

"The author was a powerful man. He was _the first_ Ansei."

Roe examined the binding of the book, then opened it up and looked inside the cover. _Frandar Hunding._ The name was not familiar to him.

"So who is he?"

"I'll tell you what. Since you are my _good friend_ and all I think a little arrangement is in order. I have a task that needs doing. If you complete it for me I will tell you more about the book in your hands."

"I think I'll pass." Roe stood and pushed in his chair. "I really should be going anyway."

"Truly? After all that you had to say about _knowledge? _For a second I thought maybe I had found someone to have a worthwhile conversation with. And so young too." The Librarian trailed off in disappointment.

"Look, I'm sorry but I have to…"

"I assure you _my friend_," The Librarian interrupted. His tone was serious. The old Redguard stared deeply into Roe's eyes as if trying to see into his soul. "there is nothing more important than what you will find in _that book_."

Roe was almost too petrified to decline the offer.

"What do I have to do?"

"_Excellent!_ The books on the third level need to be alphabetized and the shelves dusted. It shouldn't take you more than a few days."

* * *

For three and a half days Roe sat in the near dark of a library in Rihad organizing the books from the letters R through Z. _Of course I get the floor with the letter R. Every book in here is about Redguards!_ The Librarian would come and speak with him in the evenings, talking about the city, the Temple, what they each had done with their lives and so on. During the day however the Librarian would leave Roe to his work. Even with such a daunting task before him Roe found time to browse through the books as he stacked them away.

A condition of the deal, the Librarian informed Roe _after_ he accepted, was that he was not to leave the third floor. There were proper facilities for him to survive by - a bedroll and a bucket, and every day at sundown the Librarian brought him a meal with tea. For a little old man he was an amazing cook. The suppertime meals consisted of plates full of roasted vegetables, seared fruits and freshly caught game. He did not serve alcohol, just hot or cold tea. After two days of this royal treatment Roe didn't even mind the monotony of his task anymore. It was some of the best food he ever tasted.

Roe stood as he filed the last book in its proper place, _A Tale of the Desert, by Zylmoc the Zulu. _He hadn't shaved or bathed in nearly three days and his muscles ached from disuse, especially his knee. After cracking a few bones in his hands, ankles and neck, he called for the Librarian. Soon the old Redguard came hobbling down the stairs. He looked over the rows of books and nodded his head in approval.

"Thank you. I appreciate the hard work you have done."

"You're welcome _Librarian._" The Redguard still hadn't revealed his own name.

"_Yes, yes_ that will work for now. Now, for the next part of your task."

The Librarian raised his hand before Roe could say anything in protest.

"I noticed in your pack you have a unique schematic. May I ask, are you a smith?"

Roe could've strangled the Redguard's throat until his eyes popped out of his head. He tried to keep his cool even though his face was as red as an apple.

"Actually yes I am."

"Are these schematics yours or are they" The Librarian glanced at the label. "Mister Harith's?"

Roe didn't answer.

"You _stole _these didn't you? I told you that you couldn't leave the third floor. I'm afraid our deal is off."

"Whoa! _I stole that before I even came here!_" Roe felt like an idiot for blurting out his confession to a crime in a public place.

"How can I believe you Roe? I mean you are a thief. You just said so."

"Give it back." Roe ordered. "_Now._"

"No, I don't think I will do that. I'm disappointed in you _my friend_ but I am willing to show mercy. If you return this to exactly where you got it from, then our previous arrangement is back on. We'll forget this whole thing ever happened."

"If I don't?"

"Then the city guard will surely here about this."

"You leave me with little choice."


	8. Chapter 4 Part 1

**4**

Roe was young but still had done a great deal with his life. One thing he had not done was to break into someone's home to put something back. He could now scratch that off the list. Apparently Harith didn't even notice the schematic was missing. The job was over just as quickly as three nights before. For a fourth time, Roe somersaulted out of the window - a skill he was now fairly comfortable with. He dusted himself off and pulled his turban down from around his face. He hadn't even bothered stowing his equipment in a safe area; he just left it outside the window.

The dark streets of the bazaar were empty just as they had been three days ago. A few guardsmen walked the streets with drunks stumbling behind them. The bars were full of patrons but Roe would not be celebrating with them tonight. He wanted to return to the library to make sure the Librarian hadn't ratted him out to the guard. _What a waste of three days._ Thoughts of breaking the Librarian's jaw occupied his thoughts as he reached the Temple District's gates.

"_You there_, what are you doing out so late?" A Temple Guard inquired stepping into Roe's path.

_Oh great, if I get busted for this I'll never forgive myself. _

"_De er en fedt svin?_" Roe answered in Orcish. He hoped the guard would take pity on a foreigner.

"Cyrodilic Nord, I know you speak it."

_Fucking Librarian sold me out. How could I be so stupid. _Two more Temple guards joined in the conversation, each one armed with a long pike staff and dressed in ornate armour much like Dayan and Amir's.

"I'm only _half Nord._"

"You sure look like one… except for those ears. Your mother an Altmer _whore_ or something?" The guards laughed and lowered their pikes in an attack stance. "Drop the staff and come with –"

Roe went on the offensive catching his enemies by surprise. Whirling his backpack as if it were a _flail_, he distracted all three of his opponents. With his own staff tucked securely underneath his arm, Roe lunged at one of the sentries' chest. The guard's breastplate absorbed much of the energy, but it could not protect him from a follow up strike landed on the side of his neck. The Redguard fell to the ground, incapacitated though not mortally injured.

Realizing their opponent was a skilled fighter the two remaining sentries fell back to defensive positions. Roe assessed their weaknesses hoping that they would make the attacking move. From his left, one of the guards raised his pike high above his head for a chopping strike. Roe advanced quickly removing himself from the danger area and shoved the end of his staff into the man's stomach, then hooked his neck and pulled him to the ground. He finished the injured Redguard with a kick to the man's temple. By this time, the third Temple Guard was flying through the air with his pike sailing towards Roe's head. Roe _pirouetted _like a dancer, a maneuver he remembered Amir perform countless times, and watched the guard fly past him. Using his backpack strap he caught the guard around the neck and yanked him to the ground. The guard's head impacted with the stone floor knocking him unconscious. Satisfied that the Temple Guards no longer posed any threat, Roe calmly collected their weapons, tossed them into a garbage can and began to walk away.

"Impressive. A Nord that speaks Orcish? _Now I've seen everything._" The Librarian emerged from an alleyway where he had been watching the scuffle.

Roe was surprised to see the Librarian and ran over to repay him for his betrayal. Roe was almost immediately knocked off his feet, smashing into a wall several feet behind him. It felt like his chest had been crushed and his head throbbed from the impact. Desperately he gasped for air, looking around for the enemy that had gotten the best of him. _Was it a guard I missed? The_ _Librarian wasn't armed, was he?_ Much to his surprise across the street was the little old Librarian wielding what looked like a beam of light or a puff of smoke. The Librarian moved his hands in a rhythmic like motion and the light was gone.


	9. Chapter 4 Part 2

Before his eyes opened, Roe was already reaching for his knife. The blade was not in its sheath nor was the sheath in its usual place tied to his thigh. He was staring at an expanse of white that took a few moments for him to realize was a ceiling. The room didn't look like a prison cell but it was just as barren. All of his belongings minus his weapons sat beside the bedroll he was laying on. In front of him was a wooden door. He got up and tried the latch. _Locked. Okay, maybe I am in jail… a very nice jail?_ Roe was surprised when the door opened and in walked two guards. Behind them entered a man dressed in white robes. A hood obscured any positive identification but Roe was confident it was the same priest he had seen entering the Temple District the day before.

"My name is Zair." The priest introduced himself.

Roe was silent.

"We can at least be _civil. _I've been polite enough to share my name with you."

"Where are my knives?"

"You'll get them back before you leave."

"Am I in prison?"

"No."

"Then I'm leaving now."

Roe collected his items and stood by the doorway waiting for the Temple Guards to move.

"I'd rather you not. Would you like to know why you're here?"

"The Librarian wants me to alphabetize your library too?"

Zair chuckled as did the two guards.

"The Librarian you have spent the past three days has told me a lot about you. He says you would like to know more about us."

Roe was confused.

"Who is _us?_"

"_The Ansei._"

"You are mistaken. I have no further business in Rihad. I _would_ like to say goodbye to the Librarian and thank him for that cheap shot with the…_hammer?_" Roe examined a large black and blue bruise covering his chest. "_How in the world did he ever hide that thing from me?_"

"It wasn't a hammer and he didn't hide it. _He thought it up_." Zair explained.

Roe didn't know what to make of the remark so he laughed.

"Come again?"

"Would you like to know more about the Ansei?"

"I said four days ago I did."

"Yes and you've performed very well. Come with me and I'll explain everything."

"Performed well? I wasn't aware I was here for your entertainment Mister Zair."

"It's just Zair for now. Follow me please."

The priest led the way down a plain colored hallway lined with rooms that looked to be general living quarters and meditation rooms. At the end of the hall, Zair motioned Roe through into the main hall of the Temple of Satakal.

The ceilings of the Temple were so high that at first it seemed he was standing outside. The lobby of the ancient Temple was lined with thousands of turquoise and white ceramic tiles decorating the walls. Their designs were very flamboyant, depicting flowers, fruits and scenes of nature. Stained glass windows allowed muffled rays of natural light to shine through, complimenting the illumination from rows of wall mounted torches and a central chandelier. Unlike most of the temples he had visited, the lobby floor was covered in soft carpet. There were three large wooden doors at the entrance and by each one was a basin full of water and rose petals. Roe had seen this before in some temples in High Rock where patrons would wash their hands and faces before entering to pray. A row of shoes lined up outside the entrance prompted Roe to remove his as well.

At the opposite end of the Temple looked to be where the services were held. The floor was stone, kept so clean that the grout in between was still white like new. The pews all faced the opposite wall in a semicircular amphitheater style design. At the focal point of the Temple was the pulpit, where the high-priests would stand and rant on and on about how great the gods were. On the wall behind the pulpit were eleven banners that reached up almost as high as the ceiling.

"Those are the gods of Yokuda and her people." Zair noticed Roe's interest in the banners.

"From left to right, _Tava the Bird God_ who carried us across the sea to our new home in Hammerfell. Zeht who looks after our crops and Morwha the _husband grabber_. Sep the Snake, Tall Pappa, Tu'whacca god of those headed for the afterlife, HoonDing the Make Way deity who allows us to triumph over our enemies in times of desperation. Onsi the god of war, Leki, Diagna and of course Satakal there in the middle."

Roe tried to associate the names to their drawn faces.

"It's a lot to take in but you'll have plenty of time to learn all about them later." Zair urged Roe toward another hallway.

"You keep talking like I'm sticking around. I'll take my weapons and be on my way.

"Not yet Roe. Please follow me." Zair led the way again through a side hallway and into a back room.

The priest motioned for the Temple Guards to leave the room and shut the door. On the floor was an ankle high table. The two men took seats on mats.

"I apologize for the secrecy. I mentioned earlier that you had performed well. What I meant was that you passed our _trials_ well. For those that seek entrance into our Hall, those who would become _Ansei_ and learn the way of the _Shehai Shen She Ru_, a series of trials have been devised to test the attributes we value."

"What is Shehai Shen –"

"She Ru." Zair finished. "The art of forming a _Spirit Sword_, a powerful weapon conjured with the mind and fueled by emotion. Those who are able to wield this power are called _Ansei _or _Sword Singers._ It is a technique invented by possibly the greatest warrior who ever lived, Frandar Hunding."

"The author of the book the Librarian showed me."

"Correct. The Librarian you have come to know is a _Master Ansei_, well versed in the art of _Shen She Ru_. He is one of our active recruiters and all of the experiences you have had since meeting him have been tests. First, _patience._ For three days you performed a menial task with no reward but the promise of knowledge. Second, _integrity._ You returned the stolen item that brought you here to Rihad. Third, _skill._ You impressed us with the last one and I thank you for not killing any of my guards."

"I try not to do that anymore."

"Impress people?"

"Kill them."

"Why is that?"

Roe paused before answering. He was hesitant to share his feelings with a stranger when he would not do the same with the Priory Sister who raised him.

"I want to go good things."

"Don't we all? I've known you for less than a day and already I can say with confidence that you are uniquely skilled person."

"There is nothing unique about being a killer. You can train a child to do so, _I've seen that firsthand._"

"True, and what you have done in your past is your business but I can see it troubles you greatly. _The Way_ is not just a discipline of combat, it is a lifestyle. As a student of _the Way_ I have discovered peace for the sins I have done in my lifetime. Will you not take this one chance to find yours?"


	10. Chapter 5

**5**

"When the Hall Master enters the room you will all rise to your feet and bow your heads in respect. This is the traditional greeting for all Ansei senior in rank to you. Remember you are here to learn a new skill I am confident none of you know. Leave your _pride_ upstairs with the rest of the world."

The Instructor speaking to the room of sixteen Initiates was an unimposing Breton male just a foot shorter than Roe. Stitched into the shoulder of his white robes were three red lines denoting his rank as a 3rd Level Ansei. Two other instructors, a Dunmer and a Redguard woman stood by the doorway of the _Meditation Room_. Roe and the other Initiates were all kneeling facing an empty wall.

_What the hell am I doing here? I didn't mean to give up my life at the Priory to be berated like a child by some priests on a power trip! _

Roe was jarred away from daydreaming when a procession of three more white-robed Ansei entered through the door. The Ansei took very small steps, kept their hands together in their laps and bowed their heads just as he had seen them do outside the Temple. The students rose to their feet and bowed as instructed. Roe peeked up for a moment and recognized the face of the elderly Redguard Zair.

"Welcome Initiates, take your seats please."

The students obeyed.

"I am Hall Master Zair. Welcome to the Rihad Halls of the Virtues of War. You have all been invited to our Temple because of your curiosity of the art of _Shehai Shen She Ru_. What does that mean exactly?"

Roe could tell that Zair had likely given this same speech several times to rooms full of young warriors just like him.

"For many generations have the greatest of Tamriel's warriors served these Halls. Many of these heroes you do not know by name, but their deeds are numerous and their power _unquestioned._ You all have been shown a glimpse of what an Ansei is capable of, however it is one thing to _know_ and another to _understand_."

He rubbed his chest which was still bruised from the Librarian's sneak attack the week before. _I think I understand too well. _

"Patience, duty, inner tranquility, harmony, and skill. With time you will learn to apply and more importantly exemplify these characteristics. Becoming an Ansei is a lifelong endeavour during which time you will train with experienced warriors from all across Tamriel. Be humble, learn from them and always show respect. Do this, and I can guarantee you will also have a lot of fun."

The group of Initiates couldn't help but smile. The atmosphere of the room hummed with anticipation.

"Now allow me to introduce some of your instructors who will be helping you on your way to becoming Ansei _Sword-Singers._"

Four Ansei stepped forward in a shoulder to shoulder line. In unison they removed their hoods and face coverings and gave their introductions.

"Master Ansei Ferul."

"Master Ansei Lencolia."

"I am 3rd Ansei Johan."

"3rd Ansei Akeira."

"You will come to learn that the skill an individual Singer possesses pales in comparison to the combined efforts of many." Zair continued. "You may find yourself working alone as you conduct your _Walk Abouts, _journeys you will make out into the world to test your skills, or you may work with a _kibut_, a team of Ansei. During your time spent here in the Halls and in the years beyond you will come to know and love your fellow brothers and sisters in arms. For training purposes we divide Initiates into _kibutnim, _training teams, to better facilitate our extensive curriculum. Each kibutnim is then assigned a senior Ansei to oversee them. I hope you are all well rested because today you begin your journey to becoming _Sword Singers._ Good luck to you all."

Zair bowed and the room of Initiates came to their feet and returned the gesture of respect. The Hall Master exited with the same two Ansei he entered with leaving the four senior Ansei in the room.

The Ansei pointed to the Initiates, instructing them to move to a specific side of the small room. Roe was moved to his left along with a female Khajiit, a Breton and Cyrod man, a lady Redguard and a Dunmer. The Initiates were almost all Redguards with the exception of the Khajiit, Cyrod and Dunmer in his group, plus two other _Dark Elves_ and a Bosmer in another.

The Breton who had introduced himself as Johan approached Roe's group.

"Good morning Initiates. Again, I am Ansei Johan please address me as such. I will be overseeing you for the initial portion of your training. Your first lesson will be in the Library. Don't worry, it's almost impossible to get lost down here; the caves underneath the Temple are pretty linear. We are in the Meditation Room in the middle of the complex. Left is where we learn, right is where we live, up is where we fight. Got it?"

The six initiates answered "Yes Ansei Johan" in unison.

"Remember that you all will be together for a very long time. Your class does not start for another fifteen minutes so I suggest you take the time to acquaint yourselves with one another."

* * *

It turned out that the Halls' Library was the lowest level of the same library Roe had spent three days working in. The elderly Librarian's specific instructions not to leave the third floor all of a sudden made sense. Roe's _kibutnim_ spent their time before class introducing themselves, sharing some stories and of course sizing each other up. _Who would be the leader, the strongest and the smartest? Who would form a spirit sword first?_

"So were you the one that had to organize the library?" Khochi, the female Redguard, asked.

Roe nodded.

"You had to organize the _whole_ library?" Ayisha, the Khajiit asked in astonishment.

"Just the third floor." He answered.

"Yeah, then _the Librarian_ clocked him the chest with a _sprit attack_." Zidvyda, or Zid as he insisted on being called, laughed.

"What about you Otto?" Jiles, the Cyrod man, asked the Breton.

Otto did not answer. Roe caught the young Breton staring at him as if he were an escaped criminal.

"Otto, what did you have to do for your test?" Jiles repeated.

"I was told to come here by a friend. Not sure if I'm going to stay." Otto answered, his gaze still fixated on Roe.

"_What?_ You're not sure if you're staying?"

"I was told this was an _immaculate order_ of warriors. I didn't know they let _beastfolk_ in."

"Hey, who the _fuck_ are you calling _beastfolk_, Breton?" Ayisha growled.

"He wasn't talking about you Ayisha." Roe interjected. "What's wrong Otto, _do my ears freak you out?"_ Roe wanted to provoke a fight.

"That _monster blood_ in your veins does, _fucking back woods witch man_." The Breton mumbled the last part under his breath.

Roe knew that as a new initiate of the Halls he was expected to exert patience and understanding in this sanctimonious environment. A good team had total trust and love in one another and even a single rift in the cohesion of a combat unit could cost lives. Taking a deep breath, Roe decided he would handle the problem in a _professional_ and _mature _manner.

He charged across the room and grabbed the Breton by the throat shoving him against a wall. With one hand around his neck and the other on his shoulder, Roe spun Otto around and forced him to the ground with a leg sweep then shoved his knee into Otto's neck just as he had seen Jayred do with the Orc spy in Argonia.

"Do you know what we do to _Bretons _who wander into the _Western Reach_ uninvited?" Roe asked in a cordial tone.

Otto was silent. Roe slapped him across the face. His teammates watched in silent horror unsure whether to intervene and save Otto's life or allow the Breton to receive his just punishment.

No one moved.

"_We eat them._" Roe smiled.

He pressed his face up against Otto's and sniffed the Breton up and down like a wild beast investigating a foreign scent.

"Breton meat is a delicacy among my people on account that we rarely have the pleasure of welcoming _your kind_ into our homes. There was one occasion when a lonely _Alessian _missionary wandered into my village intent on bringing the infinite wisdom of the Divines to us _godless heathens. _He was a quite a _portly _fellow if I remember correctly."

Roe licked his lips. Tears streamed from Otto's face. His muffled cries were soaked with fear, and his pants were soaked with piss.

"You look like an educated man Otto. Skilled in mathematics perhaps? I want you to calculate what the odds of me ever seeing you again are."

"_None! Zero!_" Otto cried out.

"Zero, that's right." He released his tight grip on the Breton's neck. "_Go._"

Otto stood and dashed out from the Library basement.

Now all eyes were on Roe who wiped away the drool from his face as if he had just finished a meal. The three remaining Initiates stood uneasy, wary if they would be the next to incur the beast's wrath.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I am called Roe and I am a Reachman."


	11. Chapter 6 Part 1

**6**

The original inhabitants of Tamriel were the _Aldmer,_ "Elder Folk", who over time would settle across the continent and evolve into the various present day races of _Mer_ – the Elves. From the sacred city of _Alinor_, capital of the Elven homeland of Summerset Isles and seat of power for their empire, the Aldmer fought to maintain governance on the colonies spreading across the mainland. Those who remained faithful to ancient ways were the Altmer "High Elves"- those who strived to be akin to their ancestors in every way. In northeast Tamriel, the Dwemer "Dwarves" did not let small stature impede their aspirations for greatness. Carved from stone and dirt, the Dwemer constructed great underground cities using their advanced knowledge of technology. Students of science and engineering, the Dwarves built vehicles to travel the sea and air and great sentient machines to stand watch over their cities or accompany their fierce warriors into battle.

Their geographical neighbors were the _Velothi, _Elves who embarked on a grand exodus under the leadership of the Prophet Veloth to the lands beneath the volcano dubbed _Red Mountain_ in Morrowind. Opposed to their dominion of northern Tamriel were the Nords, explorers and warriors who hailed from the northern continent of Atmora. Led by their King Harald, the Nords conquered the Veloth and the Dwemer though their military success was cut short by internal strife. In the four hundred and first year of the First Era (1E401), the Veloth and Dwemer united and expelled the Nords from Morrowind but at a great cost. The Veloth hero Nerevar was betrayed and killed by his companions, the demigods Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec. As punishment, the Daedric Prince _Azura_ cursed the Veloth turning their eyes "as red as the volcano lava" and their skin "as black as their hearts". So the Dunmer, _Dark Elves,_ came to be.

In the south, the Altmeri_ Camoran Dynasty_ under King Eplear was consolidating power independent from the rule of Alinor in the territories of Tamriel known as _Valenwood – _which would become home to the Bosmer, _Wood Elves_. The founding of this kingdom paved way for the independence of _White Gold Tower_, capital city of the Ayleids, the "_Wild Elves" _of Cyrodiil. These heartland Elves enslaved the native _Cyrod _tribes securing centuries of military and cultural dominance until the Fourth Century of the First Era when a revolt led by the _Slave Queen_ Alessia freed the human slaves and drove the Elves out from Cyrodiil. Isolated and unwilling to leave the lands they had settled generations earlier, the Ayleids fought desperately to retain their last territories in central Tamriel. In 1E355, eighty nine years after the Alessian Revolt, Clan Direnni was the last vestige of Elven power in central Tamriel.

The _Western Reach,_ located in the northernmost mountains of High Rock, north of the city of _Evermor_ on the border with Skyrim, was ruled by Clan Direnni as part of an empire extending throughout parts of east Skyrim, northern High Rock and Iliac Bay. In 1E358, the Cyrodilic Emperor Ami-El led a combined Cyrodiil-Skyrim army against the Dirennis beginning with the capture of the Western Reach. The Dirennis responded to this aggression by capturing almost all of southern High Rock, parts of Hammerfell and western Skyrim in a campaign lasting several years. In 1E392, an insurgency succeeded in driving out Cyrodilic occupational armies from the Western Reach. The Reach was rebuilt as a fortress against incursions from the east and protected the Elves for decades. Even after Clan Direnni's power waned and disappeared entirely in the years following their victory at the _Battle of Glenumbria Moors_, the Western Reach remained under Elven rule.

In 1E808, warriors from the island of _Yokuda_ known as the _Ra Gada_ invaded Hammerfell. The native beastfolk escaped north and sought safe haven with the Orcs at Orsinium. One hundred and fifty years later, the human kingdoms of High Rock and Hammerfell laid siege to Orsinium. Refugees fleeing from the carnage brought by the invading _Bretons _and _Redguards_, traveled further north where they were welcomed into the Reach.

From White Gold Tower, now center of the Alessian empire, a testament to man's dominance over the Elves, Reman Cyrodiil and his descendants laid the foundations of an empire not fully realized until Tiber Septim's total conquest of Tamriel in 2E896. The Western Reach continued to provide asylum for the oppressed and displaced peoples. For almost two thousand years, native beastfolk from Hammerfell and High Rock, tribal Nords from Skyrim and Orc refugees cultivated the harsh lands. Shielded from the outside world by impassible valleys and sheer rock faces, the inhabitants of the Reach melded together in a conglomeration of culture, inter-breeding and tradition.

The _Septim Empire_ of the Third Era regarded the region as an inconsequential tribal territory whose populace held no influence in Imperial affairs. Outlandish fables and horror stories portrayed _Reachmen_ as mongrel beasts, witches and godless heathens. Rumours spread of _Wild Elves_ living in the mountains north of Evermor but few dared trespass to investigate for themselves.

* * *

"You can understand the importance of maintaining such a _horrible reputation_. My people are direct descendants of the _Ayleids _who enslaved the earliest humans. There are still those who harbor great feelings of resentment and hatred towards my kind because of this."

Roe sat up and took a sip of his tea.

"I remember hearing stories passed down by the _Hotaks, _scholars, telling of great battles fought against human invaders hoping to prove _man's _dominance of Tamriel by destroying the last of the Ayleids. Since the initial capture of the Western Reach back in the First Era, no foreign army _has ever_ stepped foot onto the _Valea Alba, _the Valley Plains." He boasted.

Ayisha, Zid, Khochi and Jiles were gathered in their living space in the Halls beneath the Temple of Satakal, listening intently to the Roe's tale.

"What does it look like? _Your home _I mean_._" Khochi asked.

Roe closed his eyes, trying to recall every detail he could.

"The landscape is dominated by towering peaks of snowy rock. In _wintertide _the mountaintops are so white you can't tell where the sky ends and land begins. For eleven cycles of _Secunda, _warm air from Hammerfell converges with snow clouds blown westward over the Valley Plains. Our farmers grow wheat, corn, grain for the livestock, and tend to orchards of snow pears and berries. To the east across the Skyrim border is _Achae_, an enormous waterfall that feeds a river we know by the same name. The river follows the valley down across the Plains providing freshwater to all the southern cities and villages."

"Are all your people farmers or are there artisans, diplomats and warriors too?"

"Tradecraft does not define status. Every clan member is able to grow food or take up arms. Of course some clans are known more for certain things."

"How many clans are there?"

"Ten. The _Alinare, Thiud, Urata, Mainz, Vistula, _and _Achae_ Clans are spread across the _Valea Alba _in the south. These are the cities of the _Murdare, _anyone descendant from refugees or immigrants. Murdare are farmers, warriors and artisans and they comprise the greatest percentage of the Western Reach's population. They consist mostly of natives from Skyrim, Hammerfell and Orsinium. _Anumite, _literally meaning _certain_, are those who can trace their ancestry back to the original _Ayleids_. It is not uncommon for an Anumite to live among Clans in the Valley Plains, but most are found in the _Sudul Pamincat,_ Southern Peaks, a mountain range straddling the borders of both Hammerfell and Skyrim. The _Oder, Wynfryth _and _Saale _are the Clans of the _Hotak _- our mages, healers, historians, astronomers and philosophers. They dedicate their lives to _education_. Anumite Hotaks are responsible for teaching every child of the Reach the _Cintece Oameni, _the oral history of my people sung in the language of the Ayleids - _Ehlnofex_. If recited continuously, the Cintece Oameni takes days to complete. Education is essential to maintaining our _Reachmen _identity. Like I said before, _we are the last of our kind._"

"Can you recite it?" Ayisha begged, captivated by Roe's tale of his faraway homeland.

"_Maybe later._" Zid laughed.

Khochi and Jiles nodded in agreement.

"What is your heritage? Are you _Murdare _or _Anumite_?"

"My mother was born in Hammerfell and my father was born in Skyrim, however _his _mother was an _Anumite _and his _father's father _and _mother _too_, _making me Anumite. I was born in the Valley Plains in a village near the ancient city of _Num Sunna Silasel _– _The Blessed Shining Halls._ Silasel was said to have been the Ayleids _crown jewel_ of the northern territories. I remember playing with my friends among the great stone towers when I wasn't helping my family with our clan duties. We would build dams from deadwood, birch and poplar trees to channel water from the _Achae_ into reservoirs closer to our villages. Farmers used the water to irrigate their crops and we raised fish all year round."

"You're a _fish farmer?_" Khochi cried with amusement.

"Hardly. When I was very young I left for _Odinioara_ - City of the Ancients, capital of the northern territories and home to the _Pur-Anumite. _You might understand them as "pure bloods" in your language. The _Pur-Anumite_ live among the aged ruins of the _Sfantul Oras, _North Mountains. They have the strongest connection to the Ayleids and are our spiritual, cultural, and political figureheads."

"Why were you sent to the Ancient City?"

"My ability to use _magicka _would have meant that I would study to become a _Hotak _in the Southern Peaks, but I instead chose to become _Malatu Rahtanye_."

"What does that mean?"

"All inhabitants of the Western Reach are called Reachmen, _Rahtanye_ in my language, but there are also those known as _Malatu Rahtanye - True Reachmen_. They are our Clan chieftains and village matriarchs, elite soldiers charged with defending borders, maintaining civil order, leading militias and standing guard over the holy city of _Odinioara_. Malatu are the select of Reachmen society. No matter if you are male or female, what your Clan allegiance or ancestry is, anyone who wants to be Malatu must endure the _Zuzasa_."

"That doesn't sound good."


	12. Chapter 6 Part 2

From the Orcish slang roughly translated to "beat-down", the Zuzasa has its roots in an Orcish tribal practice predating the Ra Gada Invasion. Orcs have known the Western Reach as home for millennia and consequently Reachmen culture has been heavily influenced by the Orcs. The _Gravia _are Orcs descendant from the first refugees to arrive from Orsinium back in the First Era. Held in good favour with the Pur-Anumite, the Gravia are charged with overseeing the Zuzasa, challenging those who would think themselves worthy of the title Malatu.

At the eighth year of age, anyone seeking entrance into the Zuzasa leaves their Clan for a solo journey across the Valea Alba, over the Sfantul Oras to Odinioara_._ The route itself is not perilous but tradition dictates candidates will neither eat nor drink for the duration of their travel. Reachmen children who survive the elements and the hunger, gather outside the ancient stone walls of Odinioara in the hundreds, awaiting the judgment of the _Pur-Anumite Malatu_. On the eve of the announcement day, select children are snatched up from their makeshift camps, bound, gagged, and carried off to Odinioara to begin the Zuzasa. Those who still remain the following morning either return home to their clans or allow themselves to be consumed by the chilling winds and frigid temperatures of the North Mountains.

Children enrolled in the Zuzasa are stripped of their clan names and given the title _zuza_, a student of the Zuzasa. Loyalties to family and tribe are discouraged. All zuzas learn Malatu are superior in every way to the average Rahtanye, but that respect is earned through _merit_, _prowess_, and _sacrifice_, not intimidation.

* * *

"I wish I could tell you my c_lan name_ but in truth I have forgotten it after all these years. My companion Jayred named me _Roe_ and I've always enjoyed its _simplicity._"

"He was with you in Argonia right? What were you called, the _Horsemen?_" Ayisha asked scooting closer to Roe.

Roe nervously shifted to an upright seated position. He had never experienced intimate emotions for someone other than Sasha. His desire to see her again made him feel guilty for even _speaking _with another female. Ayisha belonged to a race of Khajiit known as the _Ohmes_. Unlike most Khajiit, comparable in appearance to a bipedal mountain lion, the Ohmes shared more humanoid features similar to that of a Bosmer. Proud of her Khajiit heritage, Ayisha distinguished herself with tattoos resembling feline-like characteristics on her face and body. He hoped his attraction to her would not be imprudent.

"We were the Riders, _Dayan's Riders._" Roe corrected.

"Dayan was a Redguard right?" Khochi asked.

"Yes, he was my master. Practically my father."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since…" Roe refrained from explaining that the last time he was with Dayan they were throwing Toby Pilson into Lake Rumare.

"Are you okay_?_" Ayisha asked.

Roe was quiet. Khochi was quick to change the subject.

"Why don't you tell us more about this _training_ you went through? What kind of things did you learn?"

* * *

Zuzas are schooled in formal education complimented by a rigorous physical training regiment that would kill, on average, two to three students a year. Zuzas learn the fundamentals of life, what is expected of them as heads of a household, tribe or clan. The Hotaks of the Southern Peaks teach the proper recitation of the _Cintece Oameni_ which is to be sung by every zuza before the thirteenth anniversary of their birth. Academics in the Zuzasa are paramount, second only to physical conditioning. Hotaks are responsible for teaching _all_ Reachmen the literary skills necessary to read important religious and cultural inscriptions, but Malatu education is far more extensive. Zuzas can read, write and converse in every language spoken in the Western Reach including Ehlnofex, the language of the Ayleids. Not only did this serve a practical purpose for dealing with diverse cultures of the Reach but the Malatu were an inspiration to the people, an example dignity and sophistication could exist even in the far reaches of the world.

Physical fitness is essential for survival in the Reach. Students exercise constantly, running over the jagged rocks of the Sfantul Oras or across the Valea Alba's snowy fields. Most of the time, zuzas are not permitted to carry water or food – Malatu require neither. Zuzas are intentionally underfed to encourage them to master the skills necessary to scavenge, hunt and steal food. Their accommodations are prepared from whatever the land can offer - snow mounds designed to shield from the wind and stone beds blanketed with moss.

All Malatu expect to serve as military leaders in either a clan or during times of great duress, a standing army. At the completion of their formal education, the Gravia introduce the teenage zuzas to _combat training_. Basic schooling in weaponry focuses mostly on archery and spear handling because of its relevance to hunting. The zuzas are forced into competitions, fighting one another with wooden weapons and no armour so their bodies become conditioned to the blows. Reachmen warfare uses a mastery of the terrain to thwart, isolate and destroy invaders. Horses are unable to survive the harsh conditions of the Reach and thus the idea of heavy cavalry is a foreign concept to the Malatu. Militias protect the borders of the Reach through a combined system of garrisons and foot patrols. Raiding parties have been known to frequent the lowlands surrounding the Western Reach, but these are likely to be bandits or marauders playing off the fears of the local populace rather than actual Reachmen.

It is known however that during their late teen years, zuzas are led down from the mountains of the Reach and into the hinterlands of High Rock. The Gravia watched from a distance as the zuzas perform tests to show their prowess in what they have learned. While on one of these excursions into High Rock, the _young zuza_ who would grow to become the _Reachman of legend_ was told to survive on his own for one week. On the fourth day of his test, he came across a caravan of traveling Bretons. Thinking he could steal some provisions, he snuck into their camp and was captured.


	13. Chapter 6 Part 3

"Sean, they're ready for us. Put the book away."

The young author paused from reading and tucked his copy of _The Reachman _into his knapsack. For over an hour they had been waiting for the beggar named Ancus to come speak with them about where Roe may have gone. Sean was curious what business a beggar had that would keep him so occupied. The Redguard Balan appeared with no beggar trailing behind her. He frowned in disappointment.

"Where is Ancus?" Sasha inquired.

"He can't meet you, not here."

"Can't or won't?" Sean clarified.

"_He can't._" Balan repeated. "Balderic has many spies that have infiltrated the Waterfront. Ancus says he'll meet you somewhere he knows is safe."

"Where?"

"The Garden of Dareloth. You remember where that is, _right Sasha?_"

The Dunmer did not answer. Sean could tell she was displeased with the arrangement yet she offered no objections. Balan led the way through the narrow allies past rows of homeless families sleeping beneath the open skies. Sean tried not to stumble over the piles of garbage and buckets filled with human waste. Balan quickened her pace and Sean struggled to keep up. He noticed Sasha was keeping a firm grip on the hilt of her blade.

The Garden of Dareloth was not like any garden Sean had ever seen. It was an empty patch of dead grass and a crumbling stone wall completely enclosed by the high iron barriers built by the Empire to close off the poorest section of the City. Access to the Garden was through the basement of an adjacent shack. Balan retrieved a key tied on a string around her neck and opened the padlock on the shack's cellar door.

"Through here." She motioned the two through but did not follow.

When Sean cleared the cellar doorway, Balan slammed the wooden doors shut. Sasha drew her dagger and handed it to Sean. The author struggled to get a firm grip, nearly dropping the blade to the ground.

"What's this for?"

"Not what. _Who._" She corrected.

Sean scanned the Garden for signs of life.

"Are we going to kill Ancus?"

"Chances are he's already dead."The Dunmer was staring very intently at a dark corner of the Garden.

"What! How?"

Sasha drew her _katana. _The silver blade glowed bright green as she extracted it from the sheath.

"I might venture a guess that _they_ did it."

As if on cue, a shadowy figure emerged from the dark corner with a blade much like Sasha's already drawn. He wore a dark hood that obscured his face but Sean could determine from his ash coloured hands that he was a Dunmer. An aura of death hung about him, as if with every step he took the grass beneath him wilted and died. For the first time since meeting her, Sasha looked frightened.

"Stay close to me Sean. Grab a hold of my belt."

Sean instinctively obeyed, switching his knife over to his right hand and grabbing Sasha's belt with the other.

"Look!"

From the corners of the Garden emerged three more shadows, dressed in the same gear as the first. Sean released his grip and snatched a second dagger off Sasha's belt, arming himself with one in each hand. The two now stood back to back, waiting for their attackers to strike. Underneath their hoods, the young author could see them smiling devilishly.

"Please, just take what you want. We don't want any trouble." Sean offered.

No reply.

"Sean, I think they want _you._"

"I will surrender but you must leave the lady alone."

"_Dead_ Sean. They want you dead." She finished.

"Oh. Well that's no good."

The attackers began circling their prey like a pack of hungry wolves. The bright glow of the moon Secunda did not penetrate the shadows of the Garden. There was little visibility, and knife throwing was never his strength, but with as much focus as he could muster, Sean launched the blade through the air. The knife danced and spun hilt over blade, impacted with the Dunmer's chest and fell to the ground with a _clank_. His attacker, stunned at first, stopped and laughed aloud.

"That was the _worst _–"

Sean charged forward, dropped his shoulder and impacted with the Dunmer's chin. Clumsily they both fell to the ground. He could hear his attacker's skull impacting with the stone wall behind him. Before Sean could come to his feet, the second Dunmer was already moving towards him with his sword aimed at the author's head. Sasha, already engaged with two of the assailants, threw a wild back kick that pushed the third Dunmer away from the author. The former Maritime Legionnaire had not forgotten his training and with rehearsed motions he leapt upon the Dunmer and grabbed for the sword hilt with both hands. The two wrestled for control of the blade, Sean digging his nails into the Dunmer's hand desperately fighting for his life, the Dunmer seemingly annoyed that he had not killed his target so easily. Sean kneed his attacker in the ribs.

This greatly angered the Dunmer who mustered his strength and broke free from Sean's grip. His red eyes flared with rage and his teeth grinded in anger. He raised his sword and for a second time lunged it at Sean's head. The young author rolled to his side and the blade penetrated deep into the ground. Sean then rolled back onto the blade and knocked it free from his aggressor's hold. With a fierce cry of both frustration and rage, Sean grabbed his dagger and stabbed the Dunmer in his abdomen. His attacker now turned victim, threw his hands up in defense to no avail. The blade point pierced through his wrist and hands, then his chest. Sean threw himself on top of the Dunmer and landed a killing blow into his neck.

Sasha twirled and dodged the well aimed attacks of the assassins. Sean could see that she was coddling a wound on her left side but would not allow herself to succumb to the pain. One of the assassins threw his blade forward at Sasha's torso. She narrowly avoided the attack and with her free hand open, placed her palm over the attacker's face. In a brilliant flash of light, a fireball the size of a cantaloupe erupted and engulfed the assassins face completely in fire. The Dunmer cried out in pain and abandoned the fight, choosing instead to extinguish the bonfire on his neck. His partner recoiled in surprise and Sasha seized the opportunity taking a well aimed lunge that penetrated through the attacker's windpipe and exited out the back of his neck. The elderly Dunmer released the grip on her blade and her attacker fell dead onto the floor.

* * *

"Fifteen years in the Legion and _three wars_ and _I_ get _stuck _by some Morag Tong punks while you walk away scot-free!"

Sean carefully applied the last bandage wrap to Sasha's torso and eased her back down onto her side. The Dunmer didn't so much as wince in pain.

"Luck I guess."

"Bah! You _Deckhands_ aren't all that bad with a weapon. I thank you for that."

"For what?"

"Not dying." She smiled. "For helping me when I needed it. I'm afraid the years are cruel to these _old bones. _Those boys were a skid-mark on my boot compared to what I've faced in the past."

"About that, you said they were _Morag Tong_? Dunmer assassins? What do they want with me?"

"What do you think?"

Sean handed Sasha her leather cuirass and knapsack.

"I'm going to guess that it had something to do with you killing those men the other night."

"Not me Sean, _you_. Duncan doesn't know I'm here. He thinks _you _killed his men and now he will think _you _killed these assassins." Sasha nodded towards the bodies lying nearby.

"Duncan Almeric? Seneschal of the Office of Faith and Good Conduct?"

"That's him. Only he could muster resources like these foreigners. He's not a good person Sean, rotten to the core. He won't stop until you are dead and if he finds out you're helping me he'll only pursue you harder."

"We need to get out of the City. We'll have to find someone else who may know where Roe has gone. Maybe in Anvil?"

"Works for me, but first I need to find_ Balan_ and thank her for our troubles."


	14. Epilogue

**18 Sun's Dusk 3E432, The Temple of Satakal**

"In order to effectively destroy the balance of your opponent, _you_ must be in balance. Do not compromise your center of mass to land a killing strike. Katanas are made long and sharp for a reason."

The students all laughed as Master Ansei Surro made this remark.

"Use the entire length of the blade. This is neither a claymore nor an axe. You don't need to bury it into your opponent." Master Surro demonstrated a few pretend swipes and cuts on his practice partner.

"Likely any enemy you will face will be wearing some type of armour. If it is cloth, fur or leather, these types of cuts will suffice for body strikes. If the armour is metal, the katana blade won't cut or pierce through no matter how hard you push. Instead, cut the exposed areas and make your opponent bleed a little...or a lot." Master Surro pointed to his practice partner's body parts.

"Neck, biceps, forearms, and face. If you cut your enemy enough, they're likely to get mad and make more mistakes. Maintain your calm and keep an inner balance. This almost always causes your opponent to lose theirs. In a few weeks when you begin your advanced training, you will also see how all of this applies to summoning your spirit sword during times of stress. Now please pick a partner and begin practicing your techniques."

Roe partnered up with Zid. The two students bowed and began to slowly attack one another, focusing on learning the movements rather than realism of a fight. Imitating Master Surro's technique, he parried Zid's strike and countered with his own. Zid returned the favor. These attack and counterattack drills continued on for sometimes hours. The Master Ansei wanted to ensure that the muscles were conditioned to a point that when the time came, the young Ansei trainees would not think but react. This was a recurring theme of Initiate training. Master Surro's advanced weaponry class was a comprehensive review for the Initiates as they approached the end of almost three and a half years of training in the various forms of armed and unarmed combat.

The first phase of Initiate training taught them unarmed combat, pulling knowledge and expertise from every corner of Nirn. Agility and acrobatics from Elsweyr, swiftness and cunning from Valenwood and Argonia, daring and deception from Morrowind, strength and brutality from Skyrim and Hammerfell, illusion and mysticism from High Rock.

The second phase included armed combat training, familiarization with short and longswords, axes, daggers, throwing knives, bows and arrows of all kinds, staffs, pikes, spears, chains, rope, how to use a shield as a weapon, and so on. The Master Ansei tested the Initiates' skills in mock battles where the students and instructors would take turns playing attacker and defender. When the students became comfortable in one style of fighting, the Masters would throw in a new twist - combat in the dark, in the water, or in the cold or heat. Roe had once watched Jiles protect Master Zair from seven, Second Level Ansei aggressors. Master Zair was extremely impressed.

At the completion of their basic training, the Initiates started their advanced curriculum in espionage, thievery, social camouflage, investigations, persuasion and psychology. Ansei preferred to use subterfuge or cunning rather than brute force to upset the tide of a battle. The advanced training was also when the Initiates began to learn the art of forming a _Shehai_ – a spirit sword. Learning this skill would take several more years, maybe even decades to master. It required intense study, months of meditation and years of acquired experience. In just a few weeks, their basic and advanced training would be complete and the Initiates would have proven themselves worthy to don the white robes and title of _Ansei_ - the Saints of the Sword, the invisible warriors of Tamriel.

The training session with Master Surro ended and the Initiates adjourned to the Library. Roe found himself a comfortable spot nestled between two bookshelves and returned to his reading.

_The greatest of all warriors will not be the strongest or the fastest but rather he who is most attuned to effectively using all possible means to defeat the enemy. A certain piece of clothing, when worn in the right circumstances, could disarm an entire company of soldiers allowing an agent to poison their water supply, the agent never even needing to draw blood to win the battle. Everything is a weapon, anyone is a weapon, and nothing is also a weapon. Shehai Shen She Ru is the art of making something from of nothing and also from everything. _

_In the Void that occupies all things, the meeting place of the body and mind, is where the most powerful weapons are found. The Way lies in this Void, endlessness, nothingness, completeness. The world we occupy can be overwhelming, deafening to the mind and soul easily leading one away from the path of righteousness - the Way. It will not be he who cries the loudest that stands victorious, for his cries will fall on the ears of the deaf. The day has and shall always belong to those individuals who sing their songs the sweetest. _

_- Excerpt from The Book of Circles by Frandar Hunding - _


End file.
